Unfortunately our workplace is laid out strangely, and the bathroom doors -- there are two; one for the guys and one for me -- are directly outside my boss's office. That poor, poor man. I've been eating oatmeal with applesauce for breakfast this winter (I'm trying to be more health conscious, I guess), and I've been washing it down with a big mug of coffee each day. Healthy or not, it certainly works its way with my digestive track -- there's no chance with that breakfast that I can keep things stopped up for the entire nine hours I'm in the office. I'd explode!
In light of my newly-acquired morning need to poop, I've been doing all that I can to ensure that my mighty creations go unnoticed. I lift the seat and sit directly on the porcelain both to get things as close to the water as possible and to create as little shit-to-air contact time as possible. (Before you flinch in disgust, please keep in mind that I am the only user of this toilet -- and I clean the throne each evening.) I also spray a jet of air freshener during the drop-off to help head off the stench at the pass. And as soon as business is concluded and I've done a split-second survey of the damage, immedi-flush is commenced. I would courtesy flush during the procedure as well, but there's only a thin wall between my hopper and the boss's office -- it felt like that would be too much of a giveaway.
I thought I had it down. I though I was home free. I thought I had the perfect system and a flawless plan in place.
I was wrong.
Shortly after my morning contribution to the grogon population, I needed to check in with the boss about something. I noticed that his door was closed, though it had been open earlier, so I knocked softly in the event that he was working on a noise-sensitive project. He answered and I popped my head in the door and got my question out of the way.
"Sorry about bothering you," I ventured as I turned to go. "I thought you might be recording something since the door was closed."
"No," he grimaced. "That air freshener is making me nauseous."
Oh god! I thought, knowing full well the air freshener in question was sprayed by me as a final cover-up measure upon leaving the scene of the crime. "Well, there are worse smells than air freshener." I offered.
"Yeah," he sighed with a resigned look. "My office always smells like crap and air freshener."
Ladies and gentlemen of the PoopReport jury, although I tried not to, I completely lost it. My weakness for toilet humor has never come through with such ferocity as this. I nearly collapsed in hysterics. With tears of laughter streaming from my eyes, I managed to somewhat compose myself, gently close his door, and giggle my way back to my office.
Our suite of offices is small, and one of my more loquacious and snarky co-workers heard the exchange. Of course he had to accuse the other two guys of being the culprits, since it wasn't him. They naturally denied it, since (as you and I know) it wasn't them, either. This left only one person in the office that hadn't piped up: yours truly. One of the guys mentioned this under his breath... and then there was silence.
They knew... I knew they knew... and they knew I knew they knew.
Then it occurred to me: as a PoopReport member, there was really only one thing to do. Thus came my first step into the world of the Truly Shameless: the following email message, sent to my four officemates earlier today.
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TO: Co-workers
FROM: {Pinch A. Loaf} SUBJECT: Bathroom ================================== WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO THE CODE OF SILENCE!!!? Look, it was me okay? That oatmeal... Sheesh! I'm finding you an ionizer (insert boss's initials here). ...Pinch A. Loaf |
Next time, I think I'll explode.